


Philippe

by Quilligraphy_92



Series: Distraction [1]
Category: Versailles (TV 2015)
Genre: Canon Compliant, M/M, Post-Season/Series 03, Romance, monchevy - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-09
Updated: 2019-01-09
Packaged: 2019-10-07 10:15:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17364110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quilligraphy_92/pseuds/Quilligraphy_92
Summary: Philippe tries to prepare for Louis's next council meeting, the Chevalier tries to distract him.





	Philippe

**Author's Note:**

> This series explores the same scene from both Philippe and the Chevalier's perspectives. I hope to continue the story further in future, but not sure my writing is quite ready for where these two are clearly headed!

Philippe froze at his desk, quill poised in hand, as the main door to his apartments slammed open, the sound reverberating throughout the D’Orléans private suite. Familiar heeled footsteps strode through the anteroom towards the bedchamber. He rolled his eyes, whilst his beloved Chevalier de Lorraine possessed all the poise and grace of a cat, the man damn well knew how to make an entrance – even when there wasn't anyone to impress. Letting out a small sigh, Philippe drew his gaze away from the window, and the sprawling gardens of Versailles which stretched out beyond it, and refocused his attention on the papers strewn across his desk. He really did need to complete this report before tomorrows council meeting. To prove to his brother, the ministers, and – Philippe was loath to admit – himself, that he truly was worthy of a position on the council. He had waited a damn long time for Louis to give him some responsibility, and he did not want to mess it up now. Distraction was the absolute last thing he needed – and if there was one word to describe the Chevalier, ‘distraction’ was it.

He heard the footsteps falter and hesitate as they reached the bedroom door, and felt the weight of the man’s gaze on his back. Philippe’s heart fluttered. As it had done every time, since the first time, the Chevalier laid eyes on him – and as he hoped it always would. But, staying resolute, he remained focused on the documents on his desk, and resumed the scratching of his quill. The Chevalier simply could not demand his attentions whenever he wished, Philippe could not afford to let this ‘distraction’ win, not today.

The footsteps resumed, and steadily made their way across the room towards Philippe. Warm hands appeared on his shoulders, and slowly traced their way down his chest. Philippe felt himself soften under the touch, tension leaving his body. Darn, the man was hard to ignore.

‘So, here you are...in _exactly_ the same position that I left you in not four hours ago’, the Chevalier’s lyrical voice appeared at his ear.

‘Well, this report wont read itself, and Louis said that it had to be looked over in preparation for tomorrows council meeting’ he replied, as much to justify his efforts to himself as to the Chevalier. All the while keeping his eyes firmly on the desk.

A hand slid back up Philippe’s chest, drawing his dark waves behind his shoulder. Soft lips pressed against his neck, and kissed a tantalising trail up towards his ear.

‘I can think of something else that is rather important, and also requires your _urgent_ attention, my dear’ came the Chevaliers whisper in his ear, his breath warm on Philippe’s cheek and tinged with the sweet scent of wine.

‘You're drunk’. Philippe tried to suppress the smile playing on his lips, tried to ignore the slight swelling in his breeches, tried to steer the conversation towards less distracting topics.

‘I am not!’. The Chevalier stood, releasing his hold on Philippe. The man's exclamation held all the mock shock and scandal of someone who most certainly had consumed a fair amount of drink. ‘Just...a tad merry maybe’. Well, at-least he wasn't outright lying now.

‘Then I take it that you had a successful afternoon in the salon?’.

‘Most assuredly so’. There was a ‘thump’ on the table, as a large pouch of coins was deposited next to Philippe’s elbow, drawing his gaze away from the papers in-front of him. The Chevalier rounded the back of his chair and came to perch on the desk. ‘You are not the only one who has been hard at work this afternoon. It turns out that your wife and I make quite the team. We devised a rather deft cheat at Bragg and quite trounced anyone foolish enough to play us!’. Glancing up Philippe saw a broad smile on the Chevaliers lips, the man was clearly quite pleased with himself, and his winnings. ‘I thought we could both celebrate our productive afternoons with a more _pleasurable_ evening’. The smile turned mischievous as the Chevalier shifted slightly on the desk, the movement drawing Philippe’s attention to the rather prominent bulge in his breeches.

A slight gasp escaped Philippe's lips. Quickly turning his eyes away, he gripped his quill a little tighter. Fuck. He really could not afford to be distracted, and it felt like the Chevalier was doing his damned hardest achieve just that. Why did the man have to be so damn, infuriatingly irresistible?

‘well...’ he said, letting out a steadying breath ‘as delightful as that sounds I really must get this report finished, you know how much I want to keep this position on the council’ - though that was indeed under question at this very moment.

‘ah, yes...of course’, the Chevalier replied, with a dismissive shake of his head. Inspecting his fingernails, as if it really was of no consequence, he continued, ‘only..it strikes me a little odd, that a prince of France is working harder than the king’.

A flicker of anger and a pang jealousy tugged at Philippe’s senses. Oh, he knew full well that this was the Chevalier's bait, they had been playing these sorts of games for far too long now. But still, Philippe could not resist. Sitting back in his chair, he gave the Chevalier a questioning look.

‘Oh yes...’ the Chevalier said, leaning forwards and plucking the quill from between Philippe’s now motionless fingers, an impish grin on his face ‘...he spent most of the afternoon at the salon, then retired early with the Madame de Maintenon in tow’. Lifting Philippe’s hand, the Chevalier eyed the stains of black ink marring the pale skin of his fingers, ‘it would appear as though the King is having all the fun at court these days’. The Chevaliers eyes met Philippe’s own, a wicked spark glinting in those green-gold depths. ‘We simply cant...’, he drew Philippe’s thumb into his mouth, wet and warm, giving a gentle suck along the length, ‘...be having that...’ his thumb was replaced by his first finger, ‘...can we?’ the Chevalier mused, before drawing a third finger between soft lips, toying the tip with his tongue, all the while his eyes never leaving Philippe’s.

The rush of emotion hit Philippe like a tidal-wave, anger and frustration at his brother, evolving – as it so often did with him – into lust, igniting embers of passion the Chevalier had already started burning. Before he knew what he was doing, Philippe was on his feet, standing between the Chevaliers legs as he sat on the desk. To hell with council work. His brother clearly thought so little of it as to spend his time whiling away the hours. Besides, some things were indeed more important, some _positions_ more worthwhile attaining.

Desire coursing through his veins he pressed a fierce kiss to the Chevaliers lips, feeling them part willingly beneath his own. He pulled the man close, their tongues twinning together, the Chevalier’s eager moans muffled by his mouth.

Philippe drew back, ‘so...shall we head to the bed?’ he gasped, breathless from the kiss.

A smile played on the Chevaliers lips. ‘Mignonette, what on earth is wrong with the desk?’.


End file.
